Estranged
by Mickis
Summary: Years of despair has passed since the tragic night of Donatello’s disappearance, and all hope died. But destiny reunite the four brothers. Only Donatello has changed beyond recognition, and he never speaks of the time stolen from them.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Mirage Studios, I think. Well, point is: I don't own them.

**A/N:** This is my first _real_ attempt at writing a fic containing my childhood heroes. I've always LOVED them, but never found the courage to write my own story, until now. I know that this first chapter is very short, but it's just the prologue, so it's supposed to be. I promise I'll post the next chapter real soon. Please leave a review before heading out, and be honest. With that said, let's just head on with the story. Enjoy!

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**ESTRANGED**

by

Mickis

**Genre: **Drama/angst

**Language:** English

**Censor: **PG13

**Summary:** _Years of despair has passed since the tragic night of Donatello's disappearance, and all hope died. But destiny reunite the four brothers. Only Donatello has changed beyond recognition, and he never speaks of the time stolen from them._

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**Prologue**

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_No matter how brave one might be, there comes a time in everyone's life when you take the easy way out; escape. Some things are too harsh to deal with and some memories too vivid to remember. You know you are better left without them, and for protection, you hide inside yourself. _

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The rain shot in his face as he ran through the bitter New York night, a force in a life of its own; jumping from rooftop to rooftop, with only the sound of lonesome cars accompanying him. To anyone else, he was no more than a raging silhouette, passing them by _so_ fast they were left wondering if it had only been their imagination.

But he was far from an illusion. For the way his tired muscles cramped, he couldn't be anything but real. His body had gone beyond numb from the cold rain that never seemed to end, and he continuously slipped at the wet edges of the rooftops. The colder he got, the less control he had over his body, and he knew the risk of crashing towards the deadly ground below him grew bigger with each step. But he didn't care, at least not about anything else but finding his brother.

He wasn't going back without him. There was no way he would just leave him out here in the storm. Who knows what could happen to him if he did? Instead he kept on running, scanning the empty streets beneath; detecting nothing but drifters and drunks that didn't have any shelter from the cruel rain. Without even wasting them a thought, he ran pass them, hoping that maybe, just _maybe_, his brother would be in the next alley.

But no matter how many rooftops he jumped, or how many alleys he passed, Donatello was still missing. And the chances of finding him alive grew slimmer by the second, only causing the ninja to run faster. He was racing against time and his brother's life depended on him crossing the finish line before the last second slipped away.

After hours of running, without any trace of his sibling, Leonardo's adrenaline started to wear off, and he was simply too tired to fight back the tears that had been burning his eyes throughout the search. He furiously hurled the buildings of New York City, ignoring the hot tears that fell down his freezing face and fed on the tiny ray of hope that still shone in his heart, emptying it.

_We have all gone missing before, _Leo told himself, the taste of his salty tears lingering on his bottom lip.

_We've all disappeared, and come back._

But this time it was different, and he knew it, although he was too afraid to admit it to himself. But the truth ran right behind him. He felt it mockingly breathing him in the neck, chasing him. And he knew that the minute he stopped it would catch up with him.

And that's why he ignored every screaming muscle, begging him to stop and turn home for warmth and rest. He ignored the pain all because he knew the outcome of him giving up.

He knew this time might not end in their favor.

* * *


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Raphael's frustrated feet paced the floor of his home, earning a worried look from his sensei every now and then. Had it not been for his master's broken spirit, he would have ignored his prohibition, and stormed out hours ago. But how could he abandon his father in a time like this, when he was the only son he had left, the only son he didn't have to worry about.

Still, hours passed and none returned. He hadn't been worried before. Sure, Don and Leo were a little late, staying out longer than usual. But he trusted his brothers could take care of themselves. Plus, someone had to remain optimistic when Michelangelo showed no skills in this department. In most situations Mikey was the one with the everlasting smile, cracking a joke when times got rough. But if any of them went missing, his worry got the better of him, and all traces of his goofy smile disappeared. Only Leo's concern would beat Mike to it. Then of course, he always had been a mother hen, their brother in blue.

After the storm had broken out, and hours passed without their brothers' return, Mike had reached boiling point. He left the lair to look for them, positive that something must have happened for keeping them this long.

The minute Michelangelo ventured out into the storm, Raphael was overwhelmed with worry. He had always felt a need to watch over Mikey. Although technically, he was sixteen like the rest of them, but Mike was still treated as the youngest. Raphael felt the urge to go after him; protect him. Only now he couldn't leave, because Splinter forbid him to.

Raphael had painted himself into a corner. He should have gone instead of Mikey, keeping his brother safe at home while _he_ searched the city for the other two. Instead, he was stuck here, fiddling his clenching fists in frustration.

Splinter hadn't spoken in several minutes, and Raphael had no intention in doing so himself. The tense silence occupied their home like a gas-leak, threatening to blow them up at the smallest trace of fire.

Finally, footsteps caught master and student's attention, and Raphael hurried towards the entrance of the lair, rushing up the stairs.

"Raph, I need help." Came Michelangelo's pleading voice from above.

The desperate tone told Raph to prepare himself for the worst, and as Mike lowered down the motionless legs of Leonardo - he froze, if only just for a second. He quickly forced himself out of his daze and ascended the ladder, grabbing the lower body of his brother in his embrace. A painful shiver went down his spine as Raph came in touch with Leo's dangerously cold skin. He slowly climbed down the ladder, while Mikey did the same above him; holding Leo's upper body. Once the two of them were on the ground they both carried their brother into his sub-car, Splinter following worriedly behind them.

The old rat sent one quick look at the unconscious body of his son before speaking up.

"What happened?"

Michelangelo blinked at the tears in his eyes before answering.

"I found him like this in an alley."

Splinter took immediate action, as time was precious, and pushed aside his fear for his still missing son.

"Place him in the tub." He ordered. "His body temperature must warm up."

Michelangelo instantly nodded, grabbing Leo by his shoulders while looking at Raphael, who was standing by the foot of the bed, not moving a muscle, if even breathing.

Raphael looked at his unconscious brother with disbelief in his eyes. He had never seen Leo like this before, this vulnerable. Leo had always acted as if he was invincible, and Raph must have believed him. For the image of their broken leader seemed almost surreal.

"Raphael!" Splinter yelled, waking him from his trance.

Raph immediately grabbed his brother by his calves, walking with his back turned, towards the bathroom. When the two turtles had placed him in the tub, Splinter turned on the water, making sure it was the right temperature.

Splinter scooped the hot water onto Leonardo's stiff body while Michelangelo sat tearstricken beside him, too afraid to do anything but watch. Raphael stood a few feet away from the scene, observing Leo with an alien look in eyes. For the first time in his entire life, Raph realized Leo wasn't invincible. He was just as mortal as the rest of them, and the old image of his perfect brother faded away before his eyes, replaced by the helpless turtle in front of him. In that moment Raphael's entire world turned upside down on him. Everything he had grown up believing had been an illusion, and he wondered if Leo had shared it with him. Perhaps Leo had believed himself invincible, too?

Looking back to their childhood, Raph couldn't remember Leo ever getting hurt. It had always been one of them under Splinter's care. They had all broken their legs, gotten concussions and cracked a tooth, but never Leo. He had miraculously grown up without the slightest scratch, aside from getting sick a few times, like all kids do. But no matter how hard Raph wracked his brain, he couldn't think of a single time when Leo had physically gotten hurt. And that had to be pretty rare for a ninja.

But it had always been that way. Leo had always been the golden example that he and his brothers were instructed to follow. And Splinter had never really seemed to worry about Leo, either. Instead, he trusted him with keeping his other brothers safe. It had always been like that. No one had ever had to worry about the Fearless leader.

Until now.

The water filled up around the wounded turtle, brushing against the bruises the night had imprinted on him. Splinter continued to bathe him in hot water, while Michelangelo held onto his head, keeping it safe from the rising water level. Leo had never looked so helpless before, and Raphael found himself being afraid for his brother's safety for the first time.

He couldn't help but resent him for it. All this time Leo had kept him in the dark, having him believe he was perfect; indestructible. But the limp body in the tub was anything but indestructible. He was just as frail as the rest of them, and it scared Raphael beyond his wildest beliefs.

It was the same feeling you have when growing up, realizing for the first time that your parents aren't immortal. The feeling of the world, as you know it, falling apart.

Raph's thoughts were interrupted as Michelangelo hesitantly opened his mouth to speak.

"I couldn't find Donnie." He said, his frail voice threatening to break at any moment. Mike couldn't help blaming himself for not leaving sooner. Had he gone before the storm broke out, Leo might not lie here like this, and Don could have been home.

Splinter looked up to his son, finding his usually innocent eyes clouded with guilt. He put a comforting hand on Michelangelo's arm; a gesture to tell his student he wasn't responsible for tonight's tragic events.

"We will keep searching." Splinter promised, holding eye contact with his son for a moment before turning back to Leonardo.

As the tub had been filled, Raph snapped out of his thoughts and left to find Don himself. There was nothing he could do for Leo here, and if the storm had done this to their fearless leader, he didn't even want to think about what it could have done to his other brother, the one still out there.

Splinter, not wanting anymore of his sons challenging the grim night, tried futile attempts to stop him. But there was no stopping Raphael when his mind had been made up, and he quickly climbed the exit-ladder, leaving his father with his head hung in defeat.

"Maybe he'll find 'im." Mike said, willing some hope into his sensei's tired heart.

Splinter smiled vaguely in return, before turning his attention back to Leonardo. He deeply wished Michelangelo was right, although he couldn't rid himself of the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Later that night, as the early hours of morning had come without sunshine, Michelangelo sat by the bed, his eyes never leaving Leonardo's still form. Splinter had cared for him throughout the night, but Mikey had insisted he needed rest and Splinter had finally given in, taken the opportunity to meditate. Mike knew he did this in hope of reaching Don, but they had never reached contact without themselves being deep in meditation, and Mike had a feeling that wherever his brother was, he wasn't meditating. Still, he didn't have the heart to crush his father's hope, and said nothing as the old man left for his privacy. Besides, Splinter knew the odds of actually reaching through to his missing son, and he didn't need him pointing it out.

Michelangelo looked at Leonardo with great concern as he began tossing and turning in his bed. Leo's cold body had warmed up in the tub, leaving a fever in its place. Splinter and him had moved him to his room and tucked him down in his bed, where he had deliriously been murmuring in his sleep. Most of it was too faint to make out, but Mike had heard him calling Donatello's name several times. It was obvious he was just as worried about him as they were.

Mikey tried not to fear the worst for Donnie. But he had been out in the storm himself, and the result of staying out there too long laid before him. And the fact that it bad been four hours since Raph left didn't make him feel any calmer, and he knew Splinter certainly didn't.

Thinking back to the peaceful night everyone had shared in front of the TV, he wondered how things could have turned to this.

* * *

_Michelangelo, outstretched on the couch since dinner, lazily held out his arm to get a better aim at the TV. The remote was living off of its last energy source, and Mike had to muster a lot of patience when flicking through the channels. Sure, Donnie had spoiled them with a lot of channels, but that seemed of no help tonight. All he came across was documentaries and old reruns of different sitcoms, such as 'Full House' and 'Cheers'. He was just about to give up when he recognized Christopher Lambert in his kilt - which could only mean one thing..._

_"Dudes! Highlander's on!" Mikey yelled at the top of his lungs, when sitting himself up to leave room for his siblings._

_His brothers soon joined him in front of the TV. Raphael took a seat next to him as Leonardo positioned himself in the chair, closer to the television. Even Donatello abandoned his computer and the keyboard he had been fiddling with all day, as he sat down on Mike's other side. They had all loved the movie when growing up, back when the special effects were still top of the line, and it had been years since they last saw it, too many years._

_It was rare for the four turtles to like the same movie. In fact, battling over the remote was a part of their everyday life. But this movie held something for everyone to enjoy, and it brought the brothers closer together, if only just for a couple of hours. A couple of hours without insults, drivel and slamming doors, but instead just two peaceful hours of getting along._

_But like all good things; the movie came to an end, and the intellectual fellowship between the four diminished._

_"Wow, still a great movie." Leo said, stretching his tired arms._

_"Not as great as I rememba'." Raphael replied pessimistically, instantly bursting the evening's bubble._

_"Well, back in the '80s when it was shot, those were some pretty impressive special effects." Donatello pointed out, earning an annoyed look from Raph._

_"Yeah, dude." Mikey agreed. "You just hafta' look past that."_

_"Still think it blew." Raph muttered, set on not changing his mind._

_Leo, seeing where this conversation led, rose from his chair and sent a look Don's way. "We should get going." He said, calling a time out, before Raph's bad temper had any chance of going too far._

_"Yeah." Donnie agreed. He tiredly rose and followed his brother to the exit, to patrol the city that never slept._

_Michelangelo watched them leave, slightly disappointed the truce couldn't last, but quickly got over it._

_"You wanna see what else's on?" He turned to the red masked turtle, a grin growing on his face._

_Raphael spent a second contemplating his choices; a quiet night in his room, or falling asleep in front of the TV, watching old reruns with Mikey. He finally decided to give his brother a chance and motioned for Mike to change the channel._

_Gladly, Mike began a long night of channel-surfing._

* * *

What had seemed like a nice brotherly night had instead turned into a bittersweet memory, knowing it might be the last time all four of them were together. The nightly patrol was a standard procedure, and no one had expected the bitter outcome of Leo and Donnie leaving for theirs.

Mikey wished with all his might for Don to be safe. If he only knew what had happened, then he wouldn't have to wrestle with the scary scenarios that took place in his mind. But only Leo carried the truth.

He placed a caring hand on his brother's clammy forehead, falling a little deeper when almost burning himself on Leo's skin. He held back a sigh as the sweaty face twisted in pain.

It was hard to keep faith alive when they couldn't spot any sunshine behind the storm.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Leonardo furiously entered his home after yet another failed search. He couldn't afford any more failures. There had just been too many days. It had almost been three months since his brother's disappearance, and they hadn't found a single thing to go by. It was almost as if he had been swallowed by the earth. Of course, Leo knew mutant turtles didn't just disappear, and he still had every intention on finding Don, not stopping until he had. 

But every time one of them returned empty-handed, a little piece of hope slipped away. No one knew what to think anymore. Leo wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to find him. So many days had passed and he was afraid of what he might find. Perhaps not finding him was better, because then they could at least live on the hope that he was still alive. Leo wouldn't think his brother dead until he saw his fallen body before him, and that was something he rather didn't see. He had enough with the images his nightmares tortured him with.

At the sound of Leo's incoming footsteps, Michelangelo rushed out from his room, a glimpse of hope in his eyes when asking the expected question.

"Anything?"

Leonardo's shoulders slumped at the hopeful voice of his brother, and his fury disappeared when looking into his pleading eyes. He loathed himself for coming with bad news - again.

"Still no trace of him."

Mikey's face fell, and sighing inwardly he returned to his room.

Leo hated being the cause of that every single night. He hated being a failure, when protecting his siblings was the very reason for his existence. He hated that he hadn't been enough for Donnie that night; first loosing him, and then loosing himself when searching for him. He hated not being able to hold the remnants of his family together, as he was too lost in his own guilt. He hated everything about this situation.

He looked back to that fateful night, like he had done a hundred times before, searching for clues as to why he disappeared. Maybe there was something he had missed?

* * *

_The two ninjas graciously jumped from one rooftop to another, keeping their eyes lowered to the city beneath them. Some might call them guardian angels, other calls them freaks. But the truth carried a little bit of both statements. They were no angels, for angels never washed their hands clean of blood. But they were no freaks either, only different. Then again, humans fear what they don't understand, so the choice of word wasn't very surprising to them. _

_But tonight seemed calm, as they hadn't come across any trouble. Just then, one of the turtles noticed something below them, and he came to a sudden halt._

_"Check out the jewellery store." Leo said, fixating his eyes on the teenagers that flocked outside of it. A group of ten boys stood in the shadows of a street light, completely unaware to the fact that they were being watched._

_"Any chance they're just window-shopping?" Donnie joked, walking up to stand beside his brother to get a better look at the suspects. Although he was soon proven wrong, as one of the kids crashed the window by penetrating it with a flying brick._

_"Not likely." Leo answered, heading off to the nearest fire-escape._

_Don was short on his tail, bo staff tight in his grip as they finally reached up to the scene of the crime._

_"What the...?" One of the boys said, after turning around and facing the approaching pair. He hid underneath the hood of his black sweater, but he didn't seem much older than fifteen, just like the rest of them._

_"You might wanna put those back." Donnie said, pointing to the stolen goods with his bo. He rather didn't fight them, considering they were just kids. Criminals, but still kids._

_"Oh yeah?" Another guy said, gold sticking out of his pockets. "Well I think **you** might wanna back off!" His head was shaved and his eyebrows held quite a few number of scars. It was obvious he had put those there intentionally. It looked rather stupid._

_Leo draw his katanas, hoping the gesture would be enough to scare the kids away. And he could spot fear in the boy's eyes, but it wasn't enough to make him hit the road._

_"What, you think by showing off those things I'll get lost?" He challenged, pushing the jewellery deeper into his pockets._

_"I strongly advise you do." Leo replied, swords ready in his hands, while approaching the group, in a final attempt to scare them off._

_But the boy must have felt the need to prove himself in front of his friends, for he quickly drew a knife at the masked mutants, and his friends soon followed his leading example._

_Kids these days are hard to scare, Leo thought to himself as he disarmed the attacking criminal with his blade. He remembered back in the old days, when it was enough just showing himself._

_The unarmed boy stormed towards Leo, blinded by rage. Leo easily knocked him unconscious by placing a kick to his chest, causing the attacker to fall on his back. He then turned his attention to another guy, coming from his left. Leo spun a kick to the guys head, not bothering to disarm him. The boy instantly hit the ground, and the knife fell out of his hands. He saw Donnie in the corner of his eye; pulling away some kid's legs with his bo staff. They were easily taking these punks down, without even breaking a sweat. _

_A couple of minutes later, when Leo had knocked out two more, and three other guys had ran for the hills, he turned around to see how his brother did. _

_But Donatello wasn't there. _

_"Donnie?" He questioned, a hint of worry bouncing off his voice._

_There was no answer, so Leo quickly checked the unconscious bodies on the ground, afraid that his brother was one of them. But there were no mutant turtles among them. Worry quickly washed over him, as he felt something was dangerously wrong._

_"Don?" He called his brother's name a second time, to no avail._

_Leo quickly sprung into the alley, scanning the shadows before worriedly heading back up the fire-escape._

_"Donnie!"_

_Panic began to take over him, and Leo leaped the buildings, searching the city for his lost sibling. Soon, the sky opened up and cold rain fell over the Big Apple, soaking him down to his very bones. But he didn't stop running. At least not until hours later, when his tired feet slipped on the wet edge of one of the rooftops, and he crashed hard to the cold ground; falling unconscious immediately. _

* * *

They had done everything in their power; switching shifts, one of them always out during the night, searching for Donatello. Splinter still hadn't given up on his mediation, and he spent more time doing that than anything else. He barely ate, which honestly, worried Leo. He had confronted him about this, but Splinter assured him he needn't worry about him. His master always put a brave face on when any of his sons were around, but Leo knew he felt just as hopeless as they did.

Mikey hid out in his room most of the time. Leo wasn't really sure what he did in there, but he understood that all of them dealt with the tragedy in their own way. Raphael was practically never home. He was looking for Don almost every hour on the clock.

Everyone mostly kept to themselves, and even when the remaining of the family were together, not much was said.

Leo probably wasn't dealing too good himself. He had developed a habit, one that everyone knew of, but no one spoke of. He slept in Donatello's bed. It didn't really comfort him, because he cried himself to sleep every time, staring at the gadgets his brother never had the chance to finish. Still, he couldn't bring himself to sleep in his own bed. Hadn't done so since Don disappeared. In the beginning, no one had cared much about it. But now, months later, he knew his family didn't approve. Still, they didn't confront him. Perhaps they left him alone out of understanding, or perhaps they were too lost in their own sorrow. Leo wasn't sure. However, he appreciated the privacy his family gave him.

Still, he knew everyone couldn't stay enveloped in themselves forever. They were all walking bombs, only waiting for someone to set them off. An explosion that wouldn't go by unnoticed.

Leonardo headed towards Raphael's sub-car, carefully knocking on his door before opening it. Peeking inside the poorly lit room, Leo realized Raph must already be out. It looked terrible in there. Sure, Raph had never been one to clean up around himself. In fact, the only two things he kept in shape were his sais. But the mess in his room was something out of the usual. The floor was covered in cans, garbage and magazines, the stereo Don had put together for him was buried underneath layers of CD's. His bed looked like a tornado had slept in it, and it was probably the only proof that Raphael still lived there, because they barely ever saw him. He was like an endangered plant; you rarely came across one. And when you did, you couldn't pick it up, for it only survived out in the wild.

But Leo wasn't there to judge, the rest of their home looked almost as bad. No one had cared about cleaning after Donatello disappeared. It was hardly a priority on their endless list of concerns. It seemed nothing mattered anymore. The only thing that still resembled their old life was that Splinter still had them training in the dojo every morning. They went there out of sympathy for their sensei, for it was the only time he had with his remaining sons. Or perhaps the sudden disappearance of their brother reminded them of why it was so important to maintain their skills at their best.

But even Splinter had began to have his doubts about their morning practise. Of course, he had never said this aloud to any of them, and probably never would. But Leo would witness his master, where he stood by the sideline; coaching them. His spirit seemed to sink a little deeper with every dawn. It was only a matter of time before that routine faded, too.

Raphael would probably miss it the most of them, as Mikey and himself only attended for Splinter's sake. Raph, on the other hand, came to release anger that hadn't subsided by beating up street punks. Raph had always been buried in rage, but now, it was like he was Raphael; personified. There were no limits to his fury.

Leo mostly tried to keep as far away from him as possible, which had become a habit when it came to their problems and conflicts. Was there such a thing as giving someone too much distance? If so, they were all guilty of the crime. Leonardo knew it was best to lean on each other when dealing with a tragedy such as this one, and Splinter had on many occasions encouraged them to draw strength from one another. But even their sensei hid inside himself, where it seemed easiest to seek shelter from the loss of Donatello.

Leonardo sighed and closed Raphael's door before heading off to his own room. There wasn't anything more he could do tonight.

* * *

Michelangelo sat up in his bed once hearing the sound of Leonardo retreating to his sub-car. He wiped away the last of his tears, the ones that always fell when someone returned empty-handed from their search. He wondered how there could still be tears left, after months of crying. But he couldn't stop himself from being disappointed every time someone brought him the cruel news. He missed his brother more than anything, and like anyone would feel when loosing someone without the chance of saying goodbye, he felt himself drowning in regret.

He regretted not trying to understand Donatello better, instead of making jokes about his projects and inventions. Because he knew that Don understood the nature of each of them, and not only did he understand them, but he accepted them for their flaws and failures. Mikey regretted him and Don slipping away from each other, as they had been so close during their childhood. Perhaps it was because of seeking refuge in each other's company whenever Raph and Leo got into a fight, but Donnie and him had always been the closest. Donatello had always been the one laughing at his jokes, instead of slapping him across the head, for it being a bad one. And he had always been the one comforting him when he felt down. Even as children, when getting scared or hurt, Donnie was always the one who took him in. He had always been his best friend.

But getting older they had began to grow apart. Donatello focused more on his studies and experiments, while Michelangelo spent _his_ time poking fun at them. He cursed himself for allowing it to happen, as he realized how much he missed their closeness. He regretted not telling Don how much he loved him. But when he was still around, it seemed down right odd doing so, without a single reason apart from it being true.

Finally, when feeling a new flock of tears approaching, he pushed away the thoughts that plagued his mind and pulled himself together. He didn't recognize himself. This was not the person he was. He was happy and positive. He only spent time in his room when he slept, and he hungered for life, wanting to get as much as possible from it. But this, this broken shadow of himself was a complete stranger. A person he didn't even like.

Mike rose from his bed and quietly slipped out of his room, making sure not to run into anyone. Everything was so quiet, a result of Don missing. Nothing about the lair seemed familiar anymore; untidy, quiet, deserted. He practically tiptoed through his home, barely breathing until turning on the lights inside the kitchen.

He swiftly moved to the refrigerator to find something to eat, wanting to get back to his room as soon as possible. But their fridge was just like the rest of their home - empty. No one had bothered to call April for food supplies. And she rarely called them, sensing their need to be alone. Silently, Mikey enjoyed April's company, the few times she came over. It was a nice change from his withdrawn family. But he had never told her this, and she probably had no idea how appreciated her visits were.

When April first found out about Donnie missing, she expected him to return as they always did, when anyone of her green friends disappeared. But when weeks had passed without his return, the reality of it sank into her, and she cried. She did this openly, perhaps because she was a girl. Girls never seemed to have any problems with crying in public. Mikey had tried to comfort her the best he could, promising they would find him and bring him back.

April had never cried since, at least not in front of them.

He knew she was just as upset as the rest of them, but she felt the need to be strong for her fading friends. Although her peptalks did little in comforting them, and they seemed to have the opposite effect on Raphael. He didn't want to be comforted. Eventually, she got tired of offering her shoulder when no one took it, and the time in-between talking to each other grew longer.

Mikey decided to make himself a quick sandwich, even if the only thing on it would be butter. As he reached inside to grab the box, an unexpected voice interrupted the humming noise of the fridge.

"Good evening, my son."

Splinter, standing in the doorway, had beaten the silence and snuck up without Mikey hearing him. Mike turned around with the butter in his hand, greeting his master with a nod.

"Evenin', sensei."

"Substitute for supper?" He said, his ears slightly raising on top of his furry head, remembering his son's absence at the dinner table.

"I wasn't that hungry." Michelangelo explained, closing the fridge behind him.

Splinter nodded in understanding, hearing the unspoken words of his son's answer. He grabbed a stronger hold of his cane and slowly began to approach the orange masked turtle.

Michelangelo studied his fragile father for a moment, before turning away to the kitchen table to slice himself a piece of bread.

Splinter made himself a cup of tea, to calm his worried nerves before heading off to another night's restless sleep.

The turtle and rat prepared their choice of food in silence, Splinter sensing his student's wish to be alone. He seated himself at the table across from his son, who had taken his seat a minute earlier. The only sound above the silence was Splinter stirring the spoon in his cup, a sad look in his eyes when watching Michelangelo eat his sandwich. He never thought he would see his son this way, so different from his true self.

"Where are your brothers?" Came the opening question.

Mike looked up at his master, not surprised at hearing his voice, but expecting it.

"Leo's in his room, and Raph's still out, I guess."

"Mmh.." Came Splinter's reply.

Mike broke their eye contact and took another bite from his sandwich.

"I am worried for Raphael." Splinter said, a short second later. "He is spending more and more time away from home."

"He's just looking for 'im." Mikey answered, not in mood to discuss his brothers.

"Yes, Michelangelo." Splinter agreed, enfolding the cup with both hands. "I only hope he will not lose _himself_ in the process."

_We've all lost ourselves,_ Mikey thought silently to himself, when turning away from his father's concerned eyes.

* * *

The sun was on its way, peeking up from behind the buildings of New York City, and Raphael fled down the manhole, with another night's search gone to hell. He had been out the entire night, as if keeping the moon company, and he had looked everywhere; places he'd already been before. But in spite of his sensitive eyes, and persuasive ways of getting information out of random punks that chose to spend their nights harassing the city, he still returned empty-handed.

Raph cursed everything and everyone that got in his way, demanding them to tell him where his brother was. But no one had any information about the mysterious disappearance of Donatello. He'd even hunt down some of the old Foot clan members, who now spent their days robbing fellow citizens and all-night-stores, but even they came out clean. With Shredder dead and Tatsu back in Japan, no one gave a damn about the four mutants that hid under the city, and they couldn't care less if one of them had gone missing. Of course, the ones that talked back to him were severely beat up by the furious ninja, in desperate need to get rid of the anger that slowly, but surely, consumed him.

But the bloody night had come to its end, and Raphael retreated to the place he had once called 'home'. It was still technically his home, being as he still slept there, and sometimes even ate, but apart from the old subway station keeping a roof over his head, it was no more of a home to him than the dark alleys of Manhattan. Still, he returned there every morning, practising together with what was left of his family.

Tired feet led him through the dark tunnels, while hate grew stronger inside of him.

He hated not knowing what had happened to his brother. He hated not being able to punish the guilty. He hated the endless quest of uncertainty. He hated too much.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Michelangelo held the bags close to his plastron as he turned around to leave. He felt like a stranger; an intruder. He didn't feel at home here, like he used to. Then again, no place felt like home to him anymore, and no place had for the past six years. Not since Donatello died. 

He didn't think of his brother as much anymore, for he had gotten used to his life without him. But whenever his name escaped the corner of his mind, a fresh wave of depression washed over him. He still missed him as much as he did the day he disappeared. He always would.

"So how is everyone?" April asked, not wanting him to leave, just yet. They rarely saw each other anymore, and she didn't want to have to buy them food and bathroom supplies just to have an excuse to talk to them.

Mike pushed his brother back into the dark corner of his mind, from where he had eloped, before turning back to face April. His eyes lingered on the stomach she carried. It was proof how seldom he saw her. He didn't remember her _this_ big the last time. She looked like she was about to pop. He then looked up to meet her eyes before answering.

"You know.. the usual - fightin' most of the time." You could think that the events of the past few years would bring Raph and Leo closer. It didn't.

"What about you?" April asked, slightly surprising Mikey with her question, but his face soon fell back to its usual blank expression.

"Still in there," he simply replied, his eyes wandering down the her belly again. But he couldn't help it. It began to amaze him; how a miniature person grew inside of her.

April noticed his fascination with her pregnancy, and a small smile stretched at the corner of her mouth, unseen by the turtle.

"You wanna feel it?" she asked, causing Mike to instantly look up at her; confusion plastered on his face. He had definitely _not_ expected her to ask him that.

Mikey fumbled with the bags, unsure of what to answer her.

_Was I **that** obvious?_ he thought to himself, a hint of joy growing in his heart. He very much _would_ like to feel it, he realized.

"Can I?" he carefully asked, curiosity growing on his facial features.

April lightly chuckled to herself and walked up to him, her hand reaching for his. "Of course!" she said with a smile, gently taking Mikey's hand in her own.

Mike let go of the bags with one hand, still holding them to the chest with his other, and allowed her to guide him to her belly. At first, he felt nothing but the fabric of the ridiculously large sweater she wore. But then, something caused him to hold his breath. His face lit up with a light that everyone thought was gone forever.

"You felt it?" April asked, studying his face as the baby inside of her kicked.

"Wow," he simply said, nodding. For a second, it was almost as if his old self had never died. "Doesn't it hurt?" he then wondered, meeting April's eyes.

"No," she ensured him with a smile. "Unless she's kicking at my ribs..." she added, smiling over something Mike could never understand.

"She?" Mike questioned. He had never thought about the sex of the baby. He hadn't really thought about it as a baby at all. More like the bump underneath April's sweater.

"Well, we don't know if it's a girl," April confessed, placing her hand on her stomach; caressing it. "But Casey always calls it 'her'."

* * *

The night was dark, making it incredibly easy for a trained ninja to slip by unnoticed. Mikey hadn't bothered to wear a disguise this time. He had only made a quick stop at April's to pick up some food. He still couldn't believe her and Casey were about to have a baby. But when he had felt the pressing sensation to his palm, he understood the power of what grew inside her. Their child would be the first good thing in a very long time.

_Maybe the storm's finally passing?_ he thought to himself, hoping. For God knows they had suffered enough these past few years. More than enough.

Michelangelo turned around the corner to a darkened alley, spotting the manhole, from which he could return to his cloaked existence. Just when he was about to bend down to grab the manhole-cover, a movement caught his eye. He immediately turned around, not expecting to see what he did, and far from prepared for it.

"Mikey?" the figure spoke from where it rested itself against the brick wall, its voice frail and tired.

Mike just stood there, staring. He could have convinced himself he didn't see what he thought he did, but when the figure said his name...

_No, it's not possible_, he thought to himself. _I don't even believe in ghosts_.

But when what he thought was a figment of his imagination took a weak step closer to him, Mike dropped the bags and rushed over to offer his support. He acted on instinct. Had his mind had anything to say in his choice of action, he would've fled down the sewer, running the entire way home. Because it simply couldn't be. It wasn't possible... was it?

Then, as the feeble person turned out to be solid, Mikey couldn't keep his heart from leaping inside of him. He allowed him to lean onto his right shoulder, steadying him with his left hand on his chest. He took a moment to stare into his eyes, as if checking if it was really him. He instantly knew it was when the familiar brown eyes looked back at him, although they seemed more weary from what he remembered.

"Donnie?" Mike questioned, just to be sure. He held him in his arms, and he stared into his eyes, but he just couldn't believe it. It was kind of strange when you thought about it. For years they had been searching for him, and when he finally came back, he didn't believe it. It came like a punch to his lungs; catching him completely off guard. He had given up. In his mind he had buried his brother and moved on. Still, here they were.

"Yeah," the turtle confirmed, seeming as amazed as he was by their meeting.

Michelangelo didn't waste another second, and he threw his arms around his long lost brother, cherishing the feel of holding him. The hug was gratefully returned, as both brothers had longed for the other's grasp. Banished tears fell from his eyes as he held Donatello in his arms. He had dreamed of this moment for so long, played it in his mind so many times that it seemed almost as vivid as his real memories. But the sensation of actually doing it was completely different. He was stunned. The joy was beyond anything he could ever describe. He had never felt anything even remotely like it before. So he held him till his arms ached, because not enough blood could reach through them.

When the shock subsided, and he was able to think again, he realized their embrace didn't feel like it used to. The body in his arms felt much frailer than it had the last time he held it. His brother felt delicate in his embrace.

Michelangelo parted himself from Donatello and took a closer look at him. He had changed. Of course, six years wouldn't go by unnoticed, but he had changed beyond growing older. His body was slim, still visible muscles, but no more than your average human. His skin held scars; mostly on his arms, and he seemed paler, but it was hard to tell in the lack of light. He no longer wore his pads, nor bandanna, so he was practically naked. Then, as Mikey looked back to his eyes again, he noticed they really _had_ changed. Six years had passed, still, when meeting his brother's gaze, the number of years didn't seem to cut it. He looked decades older. His brown eyes were worn and tired, and Mike spotted desolation in them. They held no resemblance to his brilliant brother, instead they reminded him of their Master, only not in a good way.

Then, all the questions came back to him; questions he had been seeking answers to for six years.

"Where've ya been? We thought you were dead!" Mike's concern attacked his brother, who suddenly seemed very uncomfortable with the situation.

"I uh.. I was kidnapped..." Donatello managed to let out, obviously troubled talking about it.

"Wha-what happened? Who kidnapped ya?" Mikey frantically asked, his voice raising a pitch higher.

"I don't wanna talk about it right now," Don said, taking a short step away from his brother. "The important thing is that I'm back, right?"

"I guess..." Mike said, unconsciously scratching his left shoulder. He understood that his brother wasn't ready to tell him about what happened to him, and he decided not to frown over such things anymore. His brother was back, and he was finally free to bury the person he had turned into during his absent. He never wanted to feel that way again, and now he never had to.

Instead he gave him another hug; patting him on the back of his shell. "It's good to have ya back."

Donnie smiled weakly in response, holding onto the shorter, but stronger turtle. "It's good to be back."

Mike then disentangled himself from Don. "Les get ya home," he said and held a supporting arm around his brother, leading him towards the manhole. "The others'll freak!" His trademark smile curved his lips.

"What about those?" Don asked, pointing to the bags at their feet. One of the two bags was soaked from the milk that had been poured out unto the asphalt, and was in no shape to be carried anywhere. Everything else seemed fine though.

Mikey bent down and emptied the wet bag of the still eatable food. After forcing their food into the other bag, cramming it beyond what seemed possible, he removed the manhole cover, allowing Donnie to slip down first. Then, with the stuffed paper-bag held to his plastron, he jumped down after him. He handed the bag to his brother as he put the manhole cover back on its place, spilled milk raining on top of his bald head as he did. He then took the bag from Don and held it close to his chest with his left arm, and with the other arm around his brother, they began their walk through the tunnels.

Mike couldn't believe Donatello was actually back, and on his way home with him. He longed for the others' reaction, as they were in for the biggest surprise of their lives.

* * *

Leonardo performed his katas in the darkness of their dojo, a single candle lit in the centre of the room. The shadows flickered across his toned muscles as he continuously attacked an invisible warrior. His deadly, but gracious movements, could take anyone's breath away. It was beautiful.

He knew his imaginary rival pretty well by now. His brothers rarely stepped up as sparring partners, so he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to stay in shape, which he did. He always worked on perfecting his ninjutsu skills. Partly for protecting his family, if such a situation ever came up again, but mostly because he had nothing else to do. It was all he knew nowadays. In fact, he knew his invisible enemy better than he did his own family.

They were all living dead; ghosts stalking the sewers of New York City. He hadn't felt alive in years, six years to be exact. After that dreadful night took place, he swore to himself not to fail his brothers ever again. He should have paid more attention to his brother instead of enveloping himself in his own struggle. He should have been the master of his environment, like Splinter would say. Had he only trained harder, he could have avoided his brother's death, and everything that came with it.

But he didn't. He failed. His brother was dead and it was all his fault. Only his fault.

Leo swung his katanas fiercely through the air, swishing noises piercing the silence that accompanied him. Suddenly, something else rose above the sound of his own laboured breath, and he realized he wasn't alone anymore.

"Dudes!" Michelangelo's voice called from the living room of the lair. "I have a major surprise for ya!"

Leonardo froze with his swords in the air, sensing something different in his brother's voice. Something he hadn't heard in a very long time.

"Leo? Raph?" Mikey continued, his voice getting louder as he walked through the old subway station.

Leonardo placed his weapons in their sheaths, safely strapped onto the back of his shell, and grabbed a towel before blowing out the candle and leaving the room. The dojo was located on a different, larger platform, with cave-like walls surrounding it, and you had to strode down one of the tunnels to get there. The same tunnel Leo walked through to get back to the living area of their home, from where he could still hear his brother's voice; the echo bouncing down the abandoned tunnel.

"Guys? You in here?" Mike wondered.

"What's all the yelling for?" Leo calmly asked when stepping onto the platform, towel-drying his sweaty neck. He stared down at the floor when doing this, and wasn't paying much attention to his brother and his so called surprise.

"That's some welcome to give your brother."

Leo instantly dropped the towel upon hearing the voice he thought he'd never hear again, and it took him a few seconds to muster up the courage to look up. And throughout all of this, his thoughts screamed in his chaotic mind.

_It can't be. He's dead. He's gone. It can't be him. ..But it sounded like him. No! There's no coming back for him. You can't keep doing this to yourself. Snap out of it! He's gone. It's only wishful-thinking._

Bet then as he looked up, he was having really hard trouble listening to himself. For there, only a couple of meters away from him, stood Donatello. Sure, he was frailer and wore scars his brother hadn't, but nonetheless it was still Donatello. He would recognize him no matter how much he had changed. And he had.

"Donnie?" Leo questioned, barely above a whisper, while trying to comprehend the image before him.

"You bet it is!" Mikey jumped in, his smile glowing as if it had never been gone. You could take one look at Michelangelo and find yourself question if the past six years had really occurred. Because there were no traces of the disconsolate turtle he had turned into.

Leo slowly staggered forwards, staring at what could only be explained as a ghost. Although, he wasn't transparent, like the myth said.

"I-is it really you?" Leo asked, a few feet away from his brother. He didn't dare to believe his eyes. But it was hard not to, for they had never failed him before.

A reassuring smile spread across Don's features, while the orange banded turtle nodded frantically to his left side, releasing the supporting arm that steadied him. Donnie took the one step that parted them, and Leonardo allowed his brother to envelop him in his embrace. His own arms automatically reached around him; one around his neck while the other clung to his shell. Dozens of different emotions overwhelmed him at that moment, and the breathless shock - from being used to feeling nothing at all - brought tears to his widened eyes. Because this was everything he had ever wished for; the reunion he had given up on years ago. A million questions screamed for his attention, but as confusion seemed to grasp him the hardest, he was only able to ask one thing.

"But how?" he blinked at the tears that watered up in his eyes, and their hot trails trickled down his face. It felt strange. He hadn't cried in a long time. He hadn't allowed himself to. He needed strength for so many other things, and he couldn't afford to waste it on his self-pity.

"That night," Don spoke into his brother's shoulder, not having to explain any further which night he was talking about, for that night was forever burned into their minds. Leo freed himself enough for them to look in each other's eyes. "I was kidnapped," Donnie breathed. "They.. they held me captive."

"I'm sorry," Leo blurted out. "I-I should've saved you, I should've paid more attention-- I'm sorry.." He had been buried underneath his guilt for all these years. Tortured all this time. He had failed his brother when he needed him the most, and until now, he hadn't had the chance to apologize. He _needed_ to apologize, just like he had done in his dreams so many times.

"Don't," Donatello said firmly, locking eyes with Leo. "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could've done." Leo felt Don's gaze turn empty, as if looking right through him. He wasn't talking to him any longer, but himself. "Trust me."

"No," Leo objected, letting go of his brother. "I should've looked harder. I should've _kept_ looking.." he continued to ramble. There were so may things he had to tell him. So many feelings to express.

"It's over," Don said, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm back." He pierced his eyes into Leonardo's, waiting for him to calm down.

Leo fell silent as he met his brother's modified stare, and he embraced him one more time, squeezing his eyes shut to comprehend his emotions. Everything was so overwhelming. He had gone from a zombie to the happiest person in the world, and his body fell in shock because of it. His tears weren't tears of sorrow, it was simply his body's way of dealing with the emotions that stirred inside of him.

After allowing himself to cry on Donatello's shoulder for a few seconds, Leo opened his eyes and parted himself from his sibling to hold eye contact. He held his brother by his upper arms, tears still falling from his eyes.

"How are you?" Leo asked, concern coming off his voice. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened to you?" He had been so worried, and he had so many questions.

Don put his hand on Leonardo's shoulder to silent his rambling. "I'm okay. Don't worry, Leo," he smiled weakly, as if to convince him of his words. "I'm just glad to be home. All I wanna do is see my family."

A painful silence came over the reunion, and Don narrowed his eyes on Leo, suspicion glowing from within them.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice holding a determination they had never heard in him before. His eyes quickly looked around the lair before turning back to Leo. "Where's Raph and Master Splinter?" When he didn't receive any answer from Leonardo he turned his head around to look at his other brother, who's smile had evaporated. "Tell me, Mikey," he commanded.

Mike knew the question would come sooner or later, but he didn't want to be the one who had to tell him. However, when he saw the desperate look in Donatello's eyes he couldn't deny him the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

"Raph's gone off somewhere," he said, his voice weak. "He's topside most of the time."

Donatello nodded in relief when hearing his third brother was safe, but when he saw the woeful look in Michelangelo's eyes he realized there was more. "Mikey?" It wasn't a question, but a demand.

"Master Splinter.. " Michelangelo began, glancing past Donatello at Leo, seeking support. But the only thing he found in the eyes of the blue masked turtle was sympathy and sorrow. Leo's tears were no longer tears of happiness. "He uhh..." Mike looked back to Donnie, his eyes faltering. "He died a few years ago."

Donatello looked like someone had just shot him in the chest. His expression froze and he stopped breathing. Then, when the shock had passed, his face transformed and he looked back at Mikey with a darkness no one had ever seen in his eyes before, nor expected - ever. "When?" he simply asked.

"After you disappeared," Mikey said, his voice weak and unsteady. "He got sick."

Donatello nodded in silence, completely drawn in by his brother's words.

"He didn't take care of himself," Leo finally spoke, and Don turned his eyes to face him; Leo's tearstricken face reflecting past pain. "Your disappearance hit him a lot harder then he would admit. He turned old overnight, and when the pneumonia came..." Leo's voice trailed off, not being able to continue. Too many memories washed over him. He looked at Don, his eyes asking if he had to go on.

Donatello nodded in understanding. There wasn't any need for more words. He understood. He understood perfectly well.

"I'm sorry," Leo quietly said, a few tears still streaming down his face. He wished there was something he could do, but words was the only thing he could offer his brother in comfort. Though words didn't hold the power to bring Splinter back, nor mend their broken hearts. Words were merely words.

"Me too," Donnie said, his expression distant.

Michelangelo studied his brother with tears welling up in his eyes. How he wished he could've spared him this. Splinter's death had been hard on them all, but Don never got the chance to say his goodbyes - just like _he_ never had, when they thought Donatello was dead. It was a terrible feeling, one he didn't wish for anyone to experience, especially not his brother. He watched Donnie closing his eyes, excluding them from feelings they had already felt, and seeking shelter within himself.

"You okay, bro?" Mikey asked carefully, lightly placing a hand on Donatello's upper arm. Donnie slightly flinched at his touch and his eyes shot open, as if he had forgotten Michelangelo standing next to him.

"I.. I just wanna be alone," Don said, his voice barely a whisper, still not looking at Mikey, but staring into nothingness.

Michelangelo looked at Leo, who slowly nodded at him in approval. Mike glanced at the old sub-car that had been Donatello's room, and still was. Because no one had had the heart to clean it out. They didn't have the strength to erase him from their lives, even though the sight of his belongings was sometimes unbearable, being only a reminder of what had been, and wasn't anymore.

Michelangelo returned his focus on Donnie. "We kept your room," he informed, staring at his brother's distant eyes. "I mean, if ya wanna lay down."

Don finally turned and met Mikey's gaze. "Yeah.." he whispered, and nodded slowly.

"Okay," Mike mouthed, tentatively grabbing his brother's right arm and leading him towards his old room. Leo followed mute behind them, his tear flow beginning to ease.

They still had many obstacles to overcome before their family would be whole again. And even if they would make it, nothing would ever be the same.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

He ignored the pain that exploded in his bones every time he crashed his fist into the man's bleeding face; disfiguring it. His hand ached more with every punch, and the blood covering his knuckles didn't just belong to the stranger below him, but most of it being his own. Still, that pain was nothing compared to the rage that burned within him. Rage that never subsided, no matter how many goons he would beat up under the stars.

Only when a voice startled him did he stop.

He froze with his fist in mid-air, staring down upon the barely breathing man he was leaning over. His broken nose was bleeding badly and both his eyes were swollen shut. The turtle lowered his clenched fist down to his side and turned to look towards the source of the sound; discovering the silhouette of a man standing at the entry of the alley.

"Hey!" the intruder yelled, peering into the darkness. "I'm talking to you!"

Raphael quickly rose from the still body and climbed the nearest fire escape, always sticking to the shadows, like his master had taught him. However, Splinter hadn't taught him to abuse simple teenagers, just for snatching someone's purse, and shame washed over him for dishonouring his father's memory. He hadn't trained them in the art of ninjutsu just so they could beat up criminals whenever they felt like it. Raphael gritted his teeth as he grabbed onto the edge of the rooftop and pulled himself up, suppressing the traces of remorse that whispered within him. He didn't need anyone judging him.

He leaped building after building, with only his shadow following him, desperately running away from his father's disappointment. But as the adrenaline from the fight started to wear off, the pain in his fist came throbbing back, forcing him back to reality. Raphael halted at the edge of a rooftop, his breath laboured and his body quivering. He looked down at the ground beneath him - eleven stories down - and witnessed a police car racing by with the speed of light, the sirens wailing through the chilly October night.

He stood there for a while, anywhere between a second and a minute, listening to the sound of the drowning siren, till the only thing left was his own breathless pant. The image of the thug's bloody face flashed before him, and every time Raph tried to block it out of his mind, it was replaced with his sensei's disapproving look.

He had failed him.

He had failed them all. He was lost within himself, and he knew why. He knew what had lured him into the darkness of his mind. He knew who had done this to him.

Raph held his breath as he turned his eyes to the lonely sky above him, only a few stars looking back.

"This is all yer fault!" he cried, his emotional voice echoing in the silent night, with no one responding to it.

He tiredly glared at the few stars that were still visible and panted in frustration. Up until this day, six long years later, he still didn't know what had happened to his brother. He still didn't know who to hold responsible. And no matter how he twisted and turned the situation, it all came back to the same person - Donatello.

He didn't want to hate him. He had tried so hard not to. But when beating up endless number of punks didn't get rid of his anger, he started to run out on people to blame.

Raphael lowered his eyes from the sky when no answer came to his desperate accusation, and he noticed that a large number of the windows in the building across from him were lit. The morning was sneaking upon him again, and people were preparing themselves for a new day.

It was his cue to leave.

Raph scanned the street below him for any possible witnesses before climbing down the fire escape. When both his feet stood solid on the asphalt he started looking for a manhole cover to slip down. He hoped none of his brothers were awake, so he could go to bed without having to answer any questions about where he had been or what he had done. But, knowing his brothers, Leo was probably up early to refine his fighting technique, waiting for him to get home so he could lecture him about everything and anything he did wrong.

Raphael slid aside the manhole cover and dropped down into the blackness with a wet splash. After putting back the cover in its rightful place and enveloping himself in complete darkness, his heavy feet began their long walk home.

He wasn't in the mood to argue with his brother. Not today.

* * *

The lair was dark and quiet. Michelangelo was back to his old self, no longer hiding out in his room, but positioned on the couch instead, his face lit up from the poor light of the television. The volume was barely audible, to make sure Donatello didn't wake up. He was sleeping in his room for the first time in six years. Mike wanted to be there when he woke up, hence the reason why he hadn't gone to bed. Don had slept since the news about Splinter's demise, and Mikey understood his need to mourn their father, and wanted to be there to support his brother when he was ready.

Leonardo sat in the kitchen, staring down at his cup of tea, thoughts taking him elsewhere. But he wasn't thinking about Don anymore. Instead he recalled a painful memory that always replayed itself in front of him whenever he was reminded. He tried to block it out, not wanting to confront the pain that came with it. But no matter what he did he couldn't keep his mind from sending him back to that tragic night in his master's room.

It had nearly been five years, yet every single detail was as tangible as the porcelain cup in his hands. Every word spoken that night was still crystal clear to his ears.

Painfully clear.

**

* * *

**

_Leonardo woke to the sound of his master coughing, and he jolted up in his chair, realizing he must have fallen asleep. The old rat laid on his back in the bed, his eyes closed in torment as his body cramped along with the contractions of his lungs. Leo instantly got up from his chair, supporting his father at his side with a hand on his back, sitting him up, and holding his fragile hand with the other one. Fear rose within him as the furry body shook in his arms, dying a little more with every breath. _

_He wasn't going to make it through the night._

_After a couple of minutes the coughing eased and his father relaxed in his arms, his wheezing breath searching for air that wouldn't co-operate. Leo swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt the paw in his hand grab him tighter._

_"It's okay, sensei," Leo comforted, his mouth buried in the sweaty hair on top of his father's head. "I'm here."_

_"Leonardo.." the rat spoke, his voice hoarse._

_"I'm here," the pupil repeated and held his father closer, as if to convince him._

_Splinter concentrated on breathing for a few seconds, his chest sinking deeper with each exhale, before having gathered enough power to speak. "Fetch your brothers," he said, breathing heavily._

_Leonardo felt someone squeezing his heart; strangling it, for he knew the grave meaning of his teacher's frail words._

_"Yes, master," he replied, carefully resting the rat against the pillows and putting back the covers properly. He then walked towards the door of the sub-car, giving his sick father one last glance, as if fearing it would be the last, before turning and leaving to look for his siblings._

_He found Michelangelo sleeping on the couch, his head buried in the pit of his arms, and punching sounds from Raphael's room told him his other brother was using the old punching bag to get rid of some anger he had bottled up in the past few days, as Splinter's condition had gotten worse. Leo turned back to the couch, leaning over the back and gently nudging his sleeping brother on the shoulder._

_"Mikey," he said, trying to sound strong for his sibling. "Wake up. He wants to see us."_

_The turtle lifted his heavy head from the safety of his arms, his eyes fluttering with confusion. "Wha..?" he murmured, looking around the room before meeting Leonardo's eyes, instantly detecting the sorrow in them. "Is it..?" Michelangelo trailed off, afraid to finish his sentence._

_The blue masked turtle only nodded in sympathy, his eyes saying more than words ever could. He saw tears form in Mike's eyes, and the exhausted turtle quickly rose from the couch. Leo turned around and hurried to his other brother's room, carefully knocking on the wall and peeking through the open door._

_"Raph," he said, watching the frustrated turtle freeze in his movements and frantically turn to look at him. He saw a bitter realization take form within his brother's eyes, and he didn't have a chance to say anything else, as Raphael pushed himself past him and headed off to their mentor's room._

_When Leonardo entered the room his other brothers were already at Splinter's side, opposite from each other. Mikey knelt before the bed, caressing the sick rat on his fuzzy forehead, staring at his father's closed eyes; pleadingly waiting for them to open, and Raphael had taken a seat in the chair Leo used earlier, holding onto Splinter's left paw, his motionless eyes glued to their master's anguished features._

_"Sensei?" Mike said carefully, tears racking his whispering voice._

_Leo walked up to stand beside Michelangelo, noticing the tears that trickled down his face before turning to their dying father, who tiredly fought for air. He felt the lump in his throat burn fiercer, and he noticed Raphael staring at him from across the bed. The two of them shared a silent understanding before both of them turned their attention back to Splinter._

_"My sons..?" the rat questioned, his runny eyes opening and searching the dark room for his students._

_"We're here, master," Leo said, kneeling and taking his father's right hand in both of his. _

_Splinter feverishly looked at his children before worry surfaced in his eyes. "Donatello--" he coughed. "Where is...Donatello?"_

_The remaining brothers shared a painful silence at the mention of their missing sibling, but it was Raphael who opened his mouth to speak._

_"He's gone," he carefully informed. "Rememba'?" _

_Splinter rested his eyes on his red banded son, his memory breaking through the fever and grasping the truth. A moment of silence passed, and all three turtles gazed concerned at their father. Finally, the rat opened his mouth to speak, but before he had a chance to utter a single word, another cough attack gripped his weak body, emptying it from the little energy that still resided within him. He tightened his hands on Leonardo and Raphael, who fearfully exchanged a glance with each other before tuning back to their ill master, and Michelangelo reached behind his back to support him, tears falling from his eyes as he did._

_Splinter's weak voice rattled in the silence of their home, and it was the most dreadful sound Leonardo had ever heard. His father's pain reached into his chest and pierced his very heart, torturing him. Leo felt a tear escape the corner of his eye, and the hot trail trickled down his face, stopping at the corner of his mouth and leaving him with a bitter aftertaste._

_As the coughing subsided and the old rat once again fought for his breath, Mikey leaned him back against the pillows, his tears falling freely when looking at his sick father. His _dying_ father. He attentively tucked him in and rested his hand on his shaggy chest when he was done._

_Splinter slowly turned his head to Leonardo, tiredly holding his eyes with his own. "Remember what I have...what I taught you.." he said, barely reaching up to a whisper._

_Leo nodded at his father and caressed his paw with his thumb. "Of course," he answered. He knew this was it. He could see it in Splinter's eyes. But his father seemed to have accepted it, and so should they. If they could only find the strength.. "We'll never forget." Another tear slid down his face._

_Splinter smiled weakly, his heavy breathing wheezing in his throat. He then turned his eyes to Michelangelo, who's sobs echoed in the gloomy room. "And remember..how deeply..I love you...my sons..." he said, his tired eyes fighting to stay open._

_Michelangelo nodded in silence, his tears having robbed him of his voice._

_Splinter slowly turned to look at his third son on his left side, his chest barely rising with his breath. "All of you," he said, weakly squeezing Raphael's hand._

_Raph returned the squeeze, adding his left hand to the grip, while silent tears fell from his paralyzed eyes._

_The old rat nodded slightly, and then closed his eyes in agony, gripping his sons' hands with the last of his strength. Leonardo held his breath as he watched his master; his black eyes slowly opening to stare at the ceiling above them. Suddenly, his father's paw went limp in his hands, and as it did, he felt his insides freeze up. The sound of his own pulse drummed so violent in his head that his mind ultimately became numb from it._

_"Sensei?" Mikey asked, stroking his father with the hand that rested on his chest. He held his breath, as if waiting for the rat to answer him, but none came, and Michelangelo started sobbing harder, hugging his father's lifeless body._

_Leonardo stared at his sensei's frozen eyes, and only death stared back at him, even as they were facing the ceiling. He held the slender hand tighter, more tears raining down his face, and felt parts of his heart withering inside of him. Only when he heard Raphael sob did he break away from Splinter's eyes. His brother looked at their demised father with grief in his eyes, and Leonardo could literally _see_ them transform from sorrow to anger, hiding the love that burned within him. _

_Without another word spoken, Raph rose from the chair and left the room, leaving his brothers alone in the darkness to mourn their fallen father, and headed topside._

**

* * *

**

Leonardo closed his eyes, causing two more tears to silently slip through them, following the traces of others down his moisture cheeks. The memory felt so fresh. He could still feel the sweaty paw gripping his hand, and his father's empty eyes would haunt him forever.

Leo caught his own reflection as he stared into his cup, and noticed the painful expression his eyes held. He silently sniffled and reached up to his face with his right hand, wiping away the small group of tears that lingered there. After taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he grabbed the handle of his cup and took a sip, realizing the tea had gotten cold. He gently put the cup back down to the table when another sound caught his attention. The sound of feet climbing down the exit ladder.

Raphael was home.

* * *

The red masked turtle hurriedly stomped through the lair, passing Michelangelo behind the couch, ignoring everything and everyone on the way to his room.

"Raph!" Mike cheerfully exclaimed, turning his head around to look at his brother.

Raph noticed the change in his sibling's voice, nonetheless he still held his stare straight ahead and continued walking. "Back off," he hissed.

"Raph.." Mikey said, ignoring his brother's bad mood and supporting his arms on the back of the couch. "He's back." He watched his bigger brother freeze in his steps, as if a bullet had ripped through him, and noticed his fists clenching at his sides. Then, there was only silence.

"Whad'ya say?" Raphael finally spoke, after repeating his little brother's words in his mind a thousand times, only to hear the same sentence over and over again.

_He's back._

"He came back," Michelangelo silently confirmed, afraid of how his sibling would react.

Raph fiercely turned around and read Mike's face, just to make sure he was telling the truth. He instantly realized he was, when he found himself looking into the eyes of the old Michelangelo, the person that died the night Donatello disappeared.

"He's in his room," Mikey explained, before he was practically run down by the other turtle.

Raph immediately hurried off to Don's room, all sense and reason blocked out from his mind. He just had to see it with his own eyes.

"He's really tired," Mikey jumped up from the couch and called out to his brother, doing his very best to keep up with him.

Raph, on the other hand, heard nothing of what his brother said, and couldn't care less - for he was about the enter the room he hadn't visited in two years. He forcefully slid the sub-car doors open and froze in the doorway when he spotted his brother asleep in his bed, his cover drawn up to his chin. A dark shadow rested over his face, so he couldn't see him that well, still he was positive it was Donatello, and it shocked him to the core. He couldn't do anything but stand there and stare, as if his mind had lost all control of his body, and it bothered him. Because there was nothing he wanted more than to yell at his brother for all the pain he had put them through.

Mike stopped behind Raphael and peeked over his shoulder, finding Donnie still asleep in his bed. He then focused his attention on Raph, who hadn't moved in several seconds. "Raph?" he carefully asked. "He really needs his sleep.. Believe me, I wanna talk to him too, but---"

Mikey was cut off as Raphael suddenly turned around and pushed himself past him, heading off to his own sub-car, where he locked himself in. Mike just stood there, staring at Raph's closed door, and then looked to his sleeping brother, trying to figure out what happened.

"Did he wake him?"

Michelangelo turned around to face Leonardo standing in the kitchen doorway, half his face veiled in the shadows.

"Nah, he just... I don't know, he just looked at him and left." Mikey scratched his elbow in confusion.

Leo nodded in understanding, his eyes travelling from Mike's gaze down to the floor. He didn't know how Raphael would react to Donatello's return, and it bothered him. Because he could easily picture Mike's expression when he found their brother, and even imagine a few words he might've said, but when it came to Raph... he just couldn't see it.

When had they grown so far apart from each other? Or more importantly; how could he have let them?


End file.
